Zeyn was educated with the greatest care. While, however, the prince was yet young, the good sultan fell sick of a disorder, which all the skill of his physicians could not cure, and presently he died.
As soon as the mourning for his father was passed, Prince Zeyn began to show that he was unfit to govern a kingdom. He gave way to all kinds of dissipation and conferred on his youthful but evil associates the chief offices in the kingdom. He lost all the respect of his people and emptied his treasury.
The queen, his mother, tried to correct her son’s conduct, assuring him that if he did not take another course, he would cause some revolution, which perhaps might cost him his crown and his life. What she thus foretold had nearly happened. The people began to murmur against the government, and their murmurs would certainly have been followed by a general revolt if the sultan had not listened to his mother and suffered himself to be prevailed on. He dismissed his youthful advisers and committed the government to discreet aged men.
Zeyn, seeing all his wealth consumed, repented that he had made no better use of it. He fell into a profound melancholy and nothing could comfort him. One night he saw in a dream a venerable old man coming towards him, who with a smiling countenance said: “Know, Zeyn, that there is no sorrow but what is followed by mirth; no misfortune but what in the end brings some happiness. If you desire to see the end of your affliction, set out for Grand Cairo, where great prosperity awaits you.”
The young sultan was much struck with his dream, and spoke of it very seriously to his mother, who only laughed at it. “My son,” said she, “would you leave your kingdom and go into Egypt on the faith of a dream, which may be illusive?”
“Why not, madam?” answered Zeyn; “do you imagine all dreams are worthless? No, no, they often are divinely inspired. The old man who appeared to me had something holy about his person. I rely on the promises he has made me, and am resolved to follow his advice.”
The queen endeavored to dissuade him, but in vain. The sultan entreated her to undertake the government of the kingdom, and set out one night very privately from his palace and took the road to Cairo, alone and unattended.
After much trouble and fatigue he arrived at that famous city. He alighted at the gate of a mosque, where, being spent with weariness, he lay down. No sooner was he fallen asleep than he saw the same old man, who said to him: “I am pleased with you, my son. You have believed me, and now I want you to know that I have not imposed on you this long journey with any other design than to try you. I find you have courage and resolution. You deserve I should make you the richest and happiest prince in the world. Return to Bussorah and you shall find immense wealth in your palace. No king ever possessed so rich a treasure.”
Prince Zeyn was not pleased with his dream. “Alas!” thought he to himself when he awoke, “how much was I mistaken! That old man is no other than the production of my disturbed imagination. My fancy was so full of him that it is no wonder I have seen him again. I had best return to Bussorah. What should I do here any longer? It is fortunate that I told none but my mother the motive of my journey. I should become a jest to my people were they to know it.”
Accordingly, he set out for his kingdom, and as soon as he arrived there the queen asked him whether he returned well pleased. He told her all that had happened, and was so much concerned for having been so foolish that the queen, instead of adding to his vexation by reproving or laughing at him, comforted him. “Forbear afflicting yourself, my son,” said she; “if God has appointed you riches, you will have them without any trouble. Be contented. Apply yourself to making your subjects happy. By securing their happiness you will establish your own.”